


Insurance

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Goodbyes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Before Noctis sets out on the open road, Nyx passes on a parting gift.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kouaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kouaka/gifts).



> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/158337243322/i-thought-of-something-before-leaving-to-altissia) for [kouaka.](http://kouaka.tumblr.com/)

It felt more like a funeral march than a bon voyage.

Not that he wasn’t excited to see Luna again after so long. Or relieved that this wedding meant her freedom from being Niflheim’s political hostage. As well as Lucis’s freedom from the Empire’s looming threat of oppression.

Despite all of that, the Regalia still looked like a hearse as it waited for him at the foot of the Citadel. He’d always dreamed that he would take it one day to escape Insomnia. That he’d cruise right through the unforgiving city, nobody the wiser, and then gun it past the wall, scorching across the bridge to Leide and watching dust clot the skyline in his rearview.

And Nyx would be there in the passenger seat.

Sometimes, all Noctis wanted to do was just take Nyx and _go._ Get away from the Crown and how badly it hurt cutting into his skull. Get away from the vulture stares of the Council every time he said something “undignified.” Get away from the press giving him anxiety attacks by stalking him down alleyways like criminals.

But instead of taking him to freedom, the Regalia would be taking him to another cell. This time of the Empire’s design.

He didn’t think he would hate it so much if it didn’t keep him from Nyx.

An arranged marriage was just… Was there a greater insult to real love than that? Old men picking and choosing people to parcel together like wine pairings for cheese tastings.

Noctis wondered how hard it would be to get away from all this. He wondered if he could make a break for it while they were on the road, just warp off somewhere, text his friends that he was fine, and then text Nyx to come find him. Grab the bike and take vacation leave early. Meet him at a motel somewhere in the countryside. _Runaway with me._

“Noct.” Regis had been talking to him, passing on well wishes and sage advice. All Noctis really wanted to hear him say was that he didn’t have to do this. “If you have any more business to conclude here before you set out, this is your last chance to do so.”

“It’s all done, Dad,” he said, tonelessly, staring at the step just beneath his feet.

“ _Are you certain?_ ”

There was something oddly specific about the words. Noctis glanced up, curious to find Regis looking intently at him. After a moment, his gaze shifted, flicking over Noctis’s shoulder. Brow creased in confusion, Noctis turned to follow his stare.

His heart lifted when he caught Nyx peering from the tunnel entrance to the Citadel’s garage. He was waving sheepishly at him from the shadowed arch, skittering furtive glances across the yard at all those assembled. Noctis looked back at Regis and an old system of silent communication passed between them. Noctis didn’t need to say a word for Regis to hobble down the stairs towards where his friends were fussing over the contents of the trunk. Prompto was asking Ignis how old the Regalia was when Regis off-putted that “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age?”

Noctis heard Prompto squeak and the other two laugh as he hurried over to the tunnel. There was a strain in his legs from how hard he was trying to keep them from running. He cast one last look over his shoulder to check that none of them were the wiser before his control broke and he warped the rest of the way.

He collided into Nyx, the glaive catching him around the waist and spinning him off his feet into the solitude of the shadows. Noctis locked his arms around his broad shoulders and held on so tight that they started to hurt. He burrowed his face so deeply into his chest that he couldn’t see the rest of the world, trying to lure him behind bars that would keep him from _this._ So strong and soft and safe. With that voice like a midnight bonfire warming against his cheek.

“You better put the pedal to the metal and get this sweet ass of yours back here soon.”

There was a roughness to his voice, regardless of its devilish lilt. It made Noctis tighten his arms that much harder around him, and beg.

“Don’t let me go.”

Nyx whined, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. Following the pink nail marks that remained hidden beneath his shirt from the night before. It had been _wild_. Nyx had kissed him so hot and so hard that it felt like he’d left bruises. Where his lips hadn’t left marks his teeth had and his nails had and the push of his hips against Noct’s had. Round after round, hours into the night, Nyx had claimed him until his throat was raw from screaming his name. And even that wasn’t enough to exhaust him out of wanting _more_.

It wasn’t enough to fill the time he wouldn’t be retreating to his bed every night. It wasn’t enough to keep Noctis from fighting back tears as he packed his things in his royal chambers that morning. Nothing would ever be enough for this kind of separation. To be married off to someone else when his heart already belonged to Nyx. Only to Nyx. _Always_ to Nyx.

“You’ve gotta go, Noct,” Nyx said, to a vehement shake of Noctis’s head against his coat. “I wanted to give you something before you did, though.”

Nyx managed to unlatch his arms from around Noctis just enough to reach down to his daggers’ sheath and withdraw one of the kukris. He dragged one of Noctis’s arms from around his neck to press the hilt into his palm. Noctis stared at the crooked steel, then stared up at him. Scared. Because this was the kind of gift you gave someone you were never going to see again. It was hefty with _history_ , a personal icon, an avatar of a hundred battles, the scribe of an entire lifetime spent in a warrior’s hands.

“I’m coming back…” Noctis said, unsure where the wobble in his voice came from.

“Yeah, you are. Because you have to bring this back to me. It’s my favorite so, make sure you take care of it. Not a scratch when you get back, got it?”

“But, you need it…”

“I’ve got a spare.”

Noctis gave him an imploring look, urging him to take it back, that it was too much. This was a Galahdian war blade. There was so much culture in the tempering of its razor edge. He wasn’t worthy to wield this. He hadn’t forged it with blood and scourge and a commitment to a country that had only ever hurt him. Because Nyx was Nyx, and he could see everything that Noctis didn’t know how to say with a single glance, his hands drifted over his shoulders and Nyx kissed his forehead.

“Use it well. It’ll keep you safe. From daemons and politicians alike, I promise. Give it a lot of new stories to tell me when you bring it back.”

Noctis wrapped one arm around him again, feeling the dagger weigh in his other hand.

“I already miss you,” he whispered, struggling past the soreness in his throat.

Nyx folded him up into his arms, kissing old, familiar trails throughout his hair. It was a feeling Noctis would grapple onto and drag into his dreams every night that Nyx wouldn’t be next to him. And his words would keep him moving forward. For peace. Because that was always Nyx’s dream.

“I’m proud of you, little king.”


End file.
